


Gone Fishing

by gottalovev



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Pining, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 12:24:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5090636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gottalovev/pseuds/gottalovev
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being badly hurt, yet again, Matt is convinced Foggy has had enough and is about to end their friendship and partnership. Instead, he is taken on a surprise vacation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gone Fishing

**Author's Note:**

> Made for the **marvel_bang** challenge (see collection and on LJ) and accompanied by the art of the lovely Kayqy. Take a second to have a look [here ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5093216) and give her love <3

The third hit that lands on his back – with a fucking crow bar no less – is straight on his spine below the shoulder blades. It's the one that brings Matt to his knees. The thug makes a pleased grunt; he knows he connected hard. Somehow, the need to not make that asshole's day is what gives Matt the motivation to act instead of rolling into a tight little ball as pain overwhelms his system. Matt is certain that if he's hit again, then the hitting won't stop and he might be done for. It takes all of the energy he has left to move out of the way as the man winds up and brings the crowbar down again. The metal hits the concrete so hard, he hears and smells sparks. Good thing it wasn't his head.

He climbs to his feet with a wince, his back killing him, and he manages to sidestep enough to be out of reach of another sweeping motion.

"Come here, you fuck," the guy slurs. He lost a couple of teeth and there's blood splattering everywhere when he speaks.

He hates leaving the bad guys standing, but Matt is not sure he can bring him down. He's not at his best right now, hurt as he is, and on top of that he had started the night with a nice set of bruises already in place, courtesy of the scuffle with a new player on West 42nd Street that he welcomed to Hells Kitchen with his fists two days ago.

Matt thought that stopping this car thief would be a piece of cake, but the guy is unexpectedly tough. He should try boxing, with a jaw like that. Maybe Matt was complacent, thinking the thief would drop after a hit to the head, but this guy had fought back and taught him a lesson in humility. The crowbar is a very painful addition to their argument. It's becoming obvious that the big guy is getting tired, too, his breathing shallow and fast. The next swing of the crowbar is easier to avoid.

"Why would I do that?" Matt asks. "You can't catch me?" 

It has the intended result, as the guy charges him. Matt may be a little too tired to really deliver wallops with the power to lay out a guy like this, but if he's offered free momentum and the mass behind it… The hit, this time, is half Matt, half the guy knocking himself out against his feet. The shock goes all up his leg, and it's violent enough that the thief finally falls back on his ass. He's not out cold, but he's disoriented enough that he should still be there when the police arrive. The cruisers are only two blocks away now.

It's enough for tonight, in fact better than he expected five minutes ago, so Matt takes his leave. Climbing back to the roofs and getting home is an exercise in itself, his back and sides already getting stiff. He managed to hide the bruises at the office today (or mostly anyway because Foggy seemed suspicious), but Matt thinks he's going to have a hard time passing as alright tomorrow if he moves like a man with a thrown back.

On the up side, he is pretty sure that nothing is broken or even cracked, it's only nasty bruises and deep contusions. When he finally gets home, he takes a long shower and then passes out on his bed.

**

The beeping of the alarm clock isn't welcome. Especially since he needs to move to shut it off and that turns out to be extremely painful. It seems as if all of his muscles are stiff and his back is one big bruise, so sensitive that he needs to stay either on his side or his belly or else the pain flairs up again. There is absolutely no way he's getting out of bed right now, so he resigns himself to call the office. He breathes out in relief when it's Karen who answers.

"Hey, Matt!"

"Hi! You're in bright and early today," he says.

"I think it's going to be a hot one. I figure it'll be easier to work while it's cooler," Karen says.

She's right, the humidity and temperatures are already starting to rise. Before long he will start sticking to his sheets with sweat. He's not going to enjoy that at all.

"I had a really hard time sleeping last night," Matt says, which is not a lie in itself. "I'm going to take the morning, or maybe the whole day, depending. I won't miss anything, right?"

As he recalls, they had nothing on the agenda, or at least nothing that can't be rescheduled easily.

"No, it's fine. Are you okay?" Of course she's worried, though hopefully not too much. And Matt temporarily dodged a bullet, catching Karen instead of Foggy.

"Yes, it's only a little case of insomnia." He hates lying to her.

"Take care, then," Karen says warmly. "Don't forget to eat!"

"No, mom," he replies with a smile. 

They hang up after that, and he debates for a whole minute if he should get up and go to the bathroom, or if he'll burrow in his pillow for a few more minutes instead. The pillow wins.

**

A car door slamming on the street right in front of his building wakes Matt up. It's a cab, the counter is being reset as the driver mumbles about inconsiderate clients. Said client is stomping up the stairs and oops, Matt knows that heartbeat. Foggy's here, and he's doing some muttering of his own.

"Insomnia my ass." Once at the door, he doesn't even knock. "You better not be dying, asshole!"

Matt gingerly gets up, manages to put on a t-shirt somehow, and opens the door.

"I was actually sleeping, you know," Matt says while Foggy storms in.

It does make Foggy pause. "Now that I see you, the bed hair is a dead giveaway. What happened? And I might not be able to hear your heartbeat, but don't try to lie to me."

"A car thief fought back, that's all. No bleeding, nothing broken, don't worry."

"Oh, okay," Foggy says, relaxing a little.

Having Foggy know about Daredevil has been a double-edged sword: on one hand, there is no more lying, but Foggy is constantly worried about him and plays mother hen. Matt doesn't like being a constant source of stress.

"Have you eaten?" Foggy asks, changing focus. "You don't eat enough. I know you want to keep your lean figure, but you cannot survive on guilt and righteousness alone."

"You're not making any sense." Matt sighs and resigns himself to the fact that he won't be able to go back to bed. 

Foggy is in front of the fridge, gathering food to force feed him if needs be. After finally going to the bathroom, hiding how stiff he is the best he can, Matt comes back to an omelet cooking and Foggy whistling, bad mood forgotten. It's incredibly domestic and not for the first time Matt has to tamp down the feelings that try to take too much space. They are friends, best friends, that's great, that's enough and everyone is safe. 

"Orange juice?" he asks Foggy.

"Sure, thanks."

He brings the two glasses he pours to the table and relaxes, taking in the smells from the pan – basic cheese omelet with sprinkled chives Matt had forgotten he had – and the toast that is almost done. Foggy is a decent cook, and it's been a while since he made something for Matt. He's missed it.

"How long have you neglected going to the grocery store?" Foggy asks when he brings the plates over to kitchen table.

"Too long?" Matt admits. "Thanks, it smells great."

"You're welcome," Foggy says, going back to get the butter for the toast. He puts it on the table with a flourish and a tap to Matt's back. "There you go!"

Matt wasn't expecting the clap and he flinches, hard. Which Foggy immediately zones in on.

"You're hurt." He sounds betrayed.

"It's fine!" Matt tries to cover up with a smile, and then takes a bite form his plate. "Mmm."

Foggy, not impressed by his distraction tactics, crosses his arms on his chest. 

"Take off your shirt."

And fuck. 

"No need, I said-"

"And I said take off your shirt!" he repeats, voice climbing.

Matt is tempted to make a joke about how he's dreamed about this moment for years – it wouldn't really be a joke- but it's obviously not the right time. Foggy is getting pissed. So he doesn't delay the inevitable, pushes his chair back and pulls his shirt off. Unfortunately it hurts like a motherfucker and he can't refrain a hiss of pain.

Foggy's heart goes on overdrive when he sees the state of Matt's back. He's got a feeling that it must be quite a sight, if it looks as bad as it hurts.

"Jesus Fucking Christ."

"It's not so bad," Matt protests feebly. "Just a big bruise."

"Your entire back is black and blue, Matt!"

Not only is Foggy's heart rate elevated, his temperature has also raised, and there is nothing Matt can do to calm him down at this point. He doesn't even try, so as not to anger him more.

Foggy takes a deep breath. 

"Enough." It sounds final. "That's enough."

Without another word, Foggy leaves. His steps are determined, and Matt hears him go down, hail a cab and ask for the office. Then he's gone.

Foggy doesn't come back, and no one calls for the rest of the day. By sundown Matt is worried that he's finally done it, that he has pushed to the point of no return. For so long he thought he'd end up alone if Foggy ever found out he was Daredevil, and he had prepared for it. 

It's still a shock and like being on the brink of a huge gaping abyss to think it might finally be true. 

**

Even though his back still hurts, though thankfully a lot less, Matt makes a point of going to work early the day after. He takes care to put one of his best suits, shave closely and try to put some order in his hair so he looks as put together as possible. His goal is to hide the pain so carefully, it won't show no matter what. He's fine, mostly, and he'll prove it.

To be honest, he is braced to get the third degree from Foggy, but he's not there yet. Matt can only hear Karen's heartbeat in the office right now. Nonetheless he goes in with a smile. 

"Hey, Matt! Did you sleep better?" Karen asks when he enters the office.

"Yes, thank you." Another lie. He barely got any sleep, even if he didn't go out, because he couldn't stop thinking about Foggy saying it was enough. "So, any new cases for me to work on this morning?"

"No?" Karen sounds confused. "Foggy said to put everything aside?"

And shit, that's it, he's getting the boot. Matt carefully keeps his face blank because Karen must not get it yet, to be this cheerful, and he's sure not going to tell her himself. It makes sense that Foggy would tell Matt to leave to his face, first, and then announce it to Karen. He wouldn't be so cruel as to start talking behind his back. With a nod Matt goes to his office and carefully closes the door, then sits down on his chair, back ram-rod straight or else he'll just slump in it and weep. 

Matt doesn't know what to do, so he starts gathering his things. Not that he has much, and the case files will surely stay here with Foggy. But still, there are a couple of knick knacks that he places in his top drawer, he'll find a box for them soon enough. He spends long minutes running his fingers on the bumps of the little plastic dinosaur he pocketed from Landman and Zack when they quit. Foggy looked for it through all of their boxes for weeks before bemoaning that Saurus had been a casualty to the righteous fight. (Foggy used to greet it with a cheerful "Hello, Saurus!" every morning. He'll probably be thrilled to get it back, but also mad at Matt for the kidnapping.)

At 9:30 or so, Matt is brought out of his pity party by the sound of Foggy coming up the stairs. He has a bounce in his step and, to boot, he's whistling. It makes Matt's stomach drop a little more: is Foggy happy about his decision? Relieved? Is he finally realizing he should have dropped the blind guy who's mostly a hindrance to his career years ago? Will Foggy go back to corporate law, Landman and Zack or similar, and all the money he deserves and more? All of those thoughts run through his mind in quick succession, but deep down Matt cannot quite believe them. Something is up, and Matt is frozen in his office, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"I am awesome," Foggy declares as he throws Matt's door open, Karen following on his heels.

Matt actually agrees with that, and it's the reason why he won't make a fuss. He knew that what they have, being so close, was too good to last forever.

"You managed? Last minute?" Karen shrieks. "Wow, just wow. My dad once was on a waiting list for months for a place like this."

Suddenly, Matt is completely lost. What is Karen even talking about?

"When I believe in a case, I win." Foggy has his self-congratulatory voice, the one he doesn't break out enough even when it's warranted. He's puffed up like a peacock, too. "Laura at Caldwell's had no chance."

The trend of not knowing what the hell is going on is continuing strong, because what does Caldwell and Co. has to do with anything? It's a real estate firm, and they had a case about an ownership fight over one of their property months ago

Foggy stops before Matt's desk and he's practically vibrating, arms opened, heart fast with excitement, and most probably with a huge smile on his face judging by his voice.

"Let's go pack your bags, buddy, we're taking a vacation!"

Reality stops with a screech, leaving Matt more confused than ever. "What?"

"You need some R&R, so we're going on vacation," Foggy says. "Out of the city, two weeks, and I want no argument, understood?"

"Vacation? Two weeks?" Matt repeats like a stupid parrot. "I don't think-"

"Ah ha!" Foggy interrupts, hand raised almost in his face. "I said no argument!"

"But clients?" Matt says feebly. 

He cannot leave the city for two weeks! Who is going to protect Hells Kitchen if he's gone?

"I'm on it," Karen says, sounding way too cheerful for someone who's going to end up alone maintaining the office.

"Come on," Foggy says, tone breaking no argument. "Packing. Chop chop!"

"Now?"

"Yes, now would be good. In fact it would be great because we have a long drive and I'd like to make it there while we still have daylight." 

Frankly, the whole conversation is a lot like Matt would presume being caught in a hurricane feels like.

"And we're going… ?" Matt asks carefully. 

"Holland Pond," Foggy says proudly.

Matt has never heard of it. He doesn't even know _where_ it is.

"And what will we be doing at Holland Pond?" Matt dares wonder next.

"Fishing." And that tone, paired with the way Foggy rocks on his heels and does a decisive nod, points to the fact that he thinks it's a fantastic idea.

Totally overwhelmed, Matt can only gape. 

"What?"

Is this a fever dream? Did Matt only think that he couldn't sleep the night before, then passed out and made this all up, like an elaborate hallucination? It feels real, though. When Matt dreams, it's usually in a washed out version of what he remembers of being able to see. Or a hybrid of his vision then and now, that would be a more accurate description. He can see the city as he remembers it, or close, starring the idea he's made for himself of the important people in his life. Everyone else gets a non-descriptive flamed silhouette. Right now, there is no juxtaposition, just the every day world on fire composed by his senses. 

So when Foggy gestures for him to follow, Matt does. He's so relieved that Foggy doesn't sound mad anymore, that he's not forced to leave Nelson and Murdock, that he'd do anything.

**

The drive is indeed a long one. Seven hours, Foggy said as if it's nothing. He doesn't seem to realize how much of a shock it is for Matt, who only left the city once for a student trip to Washington. Foggy rented a little SUV, and all that they packed were clothes because the cabin they'll stay in is all furnished, fishing gear included. They'll just need to stop for groceries once in the village of Holland, before driving to the lake.

The sound of the tires on asphalt and the wind around the car make Matt drowsy. When combined with the exhaustion of not sleeping the night before and the emotional turmoil he tortured himself with, it's no wonder that he falls asleep less than one hour in, slumped against the passenger door.

He wakes up slowly to the sound of Foggy humming along to an oldies station, fingers drumming on the driving wheel. He takes several minutes to bask in the feeling of Foggy in a great mood, and how lucky he is to have him in his life. When Foggy said it was enough, Matt gets now that it was about Matt being hurt, that he wanted him to take the time to heal. Sure, whisking him away for two weeks is also a way to ensure Matt doesn't do vigilantism, but it comes from a good place. Unless Foggy wants to take that time to try and convince him to let go of Daredevil. That idea brings a twinge of anxiety back, but Matt rapidly crushes it. He's done enough to torture himself with 'what ifs' in the last 24 hours, he's going to try not to go down that road so soon.

When the position he's in becomes too hard on his back, Matt straightens up and then stretches. 

"Hey sleepy head!" Foggy says. 

"Hey." Matt yawns. "Time?"

"It's 6:45, we're almost there."

Wow, Matt had no idea that he had slept for that long and feels guilty of not fulfilling the copilot duty of entertaining the driver. "Sorry, I didn't mean to nap that long."

"What? No, that's great. Good for you." Foggy doesn't mention that the whole reason they're going on this vacations is for Matt to rest up and take care of himself, but it's implied. "Can you sense this?" he asks, gesturing towards the front of the car.

It's hard to have an accurate reading in a moving vehicle, as most of the input is localized in the car and around it. But beyond, if he stretches…

"Mountains?" he guesses. 

"Yes! All around, and they are covered in forest, a mix of evergreens and I don't know what else. Everything is green but the road, and the sky is bight blue with little puffball clouds. Believe me, Matt, it's gorgeous."

The enthusiasm makes Matt smile because that's one thing: Foggy is as much of a city boy as he is. He only has to prompt Foggy here and there and he's off, retelling the interesting stuff he saw on the drive as if he's been hoarding the info waiting for Matt to wake up. 

He probably did, in fact. 

**

The stop in Holland takes longer than expected because Foggy ends up wanting to buy way too much stuff (Marshmallows! For s'mores! Oh, then we need chocolate, right? And crackers!). But finally they make their way to the cabin. The main road gives way to a smaller one that follows the lake, and eventually Foggy turns on a dirt-covered drive that he says should be the one. He doesn't sound as certain as Matt would like. The terrain goes mostly down, with steep turns, and it takes a good 20 minutes before Matt senses the trees opening up before them and the sound of water now close by.

"Wow, this place is the shit, Matt," Foggy says. "It's a pretty big lake, with mountains all around. The cabin is made of logs, like in the movies, I love it."

The cabin is small, set in a clearing just by the lake. The back of it is close to the forest, and as far as Matt can sense there are no neighbors. All that he can distinguish are trees and animals, and insects, of course. Far away he hears a car, but it must be from the road that follows the lake, and that's pretty much all of the human presence he can feel. It's disconcerting, to say the least. 

When they get out of the car, for one of the first time in years Matt uses his cane for more than a prop or a weapon. Not only are the sounds all turned around, the smells are too, exhaust giving way to pine and the fishy smell of water. It's confusing, and the logwood that makes up the cabin does something weird while reflecting the sound. There are no flat surfaces but the door and the floor of the porch, not until they get in and at least the furniture is more relatable. The place smells a bit like dust, but it's not so bad.

"Do you want me to show you around?" Foggy asks. It's not something he spontaneously offers anymore, not since he learned that Matt can get by fine without him, but it must show on Matt's face that he's lost.

"Yes, please," he accepts gratefully.

"As you can probably tell, it's pretty small. There are two bedrooms, one in the front and one in the back, and here is the bathroom." They make a stop where Matt touches around with his cane, Foggy pointing out the shower, describing the controls, and other appliances. The chemical smells are strong, and Matt will have to be fast with his business in here to avoid headaches. 

"Okay, so we are back in the main room which is pretty much the living room with a small kitchen in the back. There's a stuffed deer head on the wall, and it's frankly a little creepy." Matt agrees. "The rest is bare walls, showing the logs, very rustic. It goes very well with the weaved carpet on the floor. I swear, this is some 'Little house in the prairie" shit right there. There are shelves, too, let's check that out!"

Matt lets himself be led towards said shelves. "Oh, cool, old games!"

"What games?" Matt can make out a checkers game, or maybe backgammon, and old boxes that mean board games. 

"That's going to be a surprise my friend!" Foggy says with delight. "Now, come here, let's try the couch."

With a smile Matt obediently sits down next to Foggy. The fabric is scratchy, but the cushions envelop very nicely. "Comfortable."

"Very!" Nonetheless Foggy springs back up. "Stay there, I'll go get the stuff from the car."

"I can help," Matt protests.

"I know! But get your bat senses on, I've got this. Then we'll go see what's outside!"

And that, it seems, is that. Matt feels like he better get used being coddled, as it might go on for the next two weeks.

**

"Oh, ewww," Foggy says. 

"What?"

They are on water, on the boat that comes with the cabin, and Matt has a swamp smelling life-vest on at Foggy's insistence. It's surreal, to be honest, because it's completely out of range of any of Matt's previous life experiences. He knows how to swim, his father taught him when he was five or so, but he avoids it if it's not for survival. If something happens and Matt falls in the water in the middle of the lake, he better not get turned around because he could end up swimming towards the other side of the lake. It shouldn't be a problem, though, because they are both extremely careful moving around, plus the weather is great and the water calm, lapping against the side of the boat. Right now, Foggy is setting up their bait because he decided that they absolutely had to fish before sundown.

"When I tried to put the hook in the worm, his insides sort of came out."

Matt grimaces. "It sounds disgusting."

"It is. But I think it's going to hold. Here." 

Foggy passes him a rod. 

"Wait, let me…" Foggy immediately casts the line in the water for Matt, which is extremely annoying.

"Why did you bring me here if you're going to do everything for me?" Matt asks.

"Sorry, it was just to practice. Now it's yours, I won't touch it anymore. Hold on, and if a fish bites, reel it in!"

Matt scoffs. "I've figured that's how fishing works, believe it or not!"

He can't really stay annoyed as Foggy wrestles with another worm, making distressed noises. If he's honest, Matt's pretty happy to have the excuse not to do that part. Feeling around for the reel, Matt gives it experimental spins.

"Eww again. Ugh. This one is feisty." 

Matt can sort of sense it, twisting against Foggy's finger. 

"Sorry dude," Foggy says. "You're bringing in supper."

Once his own line is cast, Foggy… falls silent. It's strange, but it's pleasant. 

The sun is going down, so Matt supposes they don't have to fear sunburns today. On the other hand, there are bugs, and he starts to worry that he might be eaten alive at one point, if more mosquitoes come out. It's a thing that happens in nature like this, right? And there's no way Matt can use bug spray, the smell of it makes him gag. He could not even tolerate it if Foggy puts some on and sits two feet from him like he is now. 

But as far as worries go, it's not so bad. It sure beats wondering if he'll get there in time when someone cries for help or if he can stop a crime in progress. The only human he can worry about right now is Foggy, and he seems content. Zen even. 

It's good.

**

Even with their combined lack of experience, they do manage to catch fish. One fish, in fact, and it's from Matt's line and he's, unexpectedly, extremely proud of that fact. Foggy helps get it out of the water with the net, crowing in victory the whole time as if it is a 200-pound tuna. It's not, Foggy says it's a trout and that it's about seven inches long. Foggy apologizes before killing it, saying it was a pal. Just the lonely fish doesn't make supper, but thanks to the groceries they make pasta too. 

Later that evening, once full and the dishes done, Foggy still seems delighted by his vacation idea. It's obvious in the way he gets excited by little things – case in point, the drying rags that he says are deliciously kitsch - and even though it's doubling as an extreme form of time out, Matt can't begrudge him. It's true that he took a serious beating. Matt heals fast, faster than most people he'd say, but his back and sides still hurt, his right knee, too. Here, in the middle of the woods, there is no other choice but to rest up and get better.

They end up sitting in the sofa, and after a moment of silence, Foggy finally speaks out.

"I might not have thought this through entirely," he admits.

There is no television, and board or card games are harder with Matt's limitation. Chess he could manage pretty easily, but checkers is tricky when not seeing the colors. Not the one to be deterred, Foggy goes to the shelves with the entertainment options. He moves things around a little and soon makes a pleased sound.

"Pichenottes? Yessss! Oh, good, here we go."

Matt has no idea what he's talking about. He's never even heard that term before.

"My god, this must be 40 years old. It's perfect. And the discs are painted with hockey team logos if I'm not mistaken, that's awesome."

Foggy has taken a big square board or box that was resting against the wall, near the shelves, and he puts it on the coffee table. Matt runs his fingers over it, feeling raised wooden sides and in each corner there are pockets, while the rest of the surface is varnished, with the faint raise of paint as a circle in the middle, and a square closer to the sides. Near each pocket he can also feel the outline of a maple leaf.

"I went to my aunt Johanne's one summer, not far from here in fact, and she had a pichenotte board just like this. I played so much, my nail was blue," Foggy says. He's back with little wooden discs that he passes over for Matt to feel. They are about one inch wide, with a hole in the middle. 

"What is it?"

"How can I describe it… Pichenotte is a bit of a cross between pool and shuffleboard. The disks are mainly two colors, in this case blue, white and red for one set, and blue and white for the other. Those are the pieces for each team, and there are," He counts. "Eleven of each. In this case. There is also one piece that is completely white, that's the King. And then there are the wooden ones, we need one each," he says, giving one to Matt. "But don't worry, we can play without the colors, we'll improvise. That's not a problem."

"What are the rules?" Matt asks as Foggy places the pieces in a circle in the middle, where he felt the round mark made of paint earlier. 

"There's a line, near the sides, do you feel it?" Foggy asks, putting Matt's fingers over the other mark, at the edge of the playing surface.

"Yes."

"Of course. Well you place your wooden disk, the one I gave you, behind that line on your side. And then you flick it, with your thumb and index, or thumb and middle finger if that works better for you, so it hits the pieces in the middle. The flicking," Foggy demonstrate on Matt's hand, it stings a little. "That's the pichenotte, aunt Johanne used to say. It's Canadian French. The goal is to send all of the disks that are in your color into the pockets before the other player does his."

It seems simple enough, if you can actually see the colors. "What about the white one?"

"The King? Oh, let's not worry about it. Normally, you need to pocket the King before your last piece. But we don't have to play with the colors, just try to pichenotte some pieces in, for fun."

"Sure, why not," Matt says. 

It is, indeed, lots of fun. Especially when Matt turns out to be pretty damn good, with crazy aim and accuracy once he gets the hang of it. It brings out Foggy's competitive side, and soon enough they find a way for Matt to distinguish his own set of disks, by putting a piece of tape on them, sticking up. Matt still wins, and totally brags about it. Luckily, Foggy's never been a sore loser and he's soon laughing along.

"Of course you're good at this, too. Of course," he's saying, shaking his head. 

They've had enough for tonight so Foggy packs up the pieces and puts them back in place, before dropping on the couch by Matt's side.

Outside the cabin it's quiet, save from the animals. The crickets are doing a fine racket, in fact. When he says so, Foggy exclaims 'yes, right!' and goes to get his phone in his room.

"I forgot, I downloaded something this morning, while waiting for the car's paperwork. It's an app with frog sounds."

"Frog sounds?" 

"Yes, what species does what, with descriptions and everything. On the screen right now there's a green one, aptly named the Green Frog. Let's hear it."

The sound that comes out of Foggy's speaker is reminiscent of a loose banjo string. 

"Wow, that's a frog? Who would have thought. Another one, a Spring Peeper.”

"That's the main ones out there," Matt realizes, as the recording matches the outdoor's soundtrack, cry high in pitch.

"True! Cool! I thought it was insects," Foggy says.

"Yeah, me too," Matt admits. "What is next?"

"Oh, wow, that one is big. Like huge compared to the others. With brown spots. A bit like a cow. An American Bullfrog."

This time, the sound is a lot lower, like a humming bass. Once again not really what Matt would have expected a frog to sound like. They go through several more, but then Foggy starts to yawn.

"I think I'll turn in early," he says after the third time he almost dislocates his jaw.

It's not like Matt can do much else by himself, so he gets ready for bed, too. 

Once lying in his bed, in this strange room, Matt listens. The lack of city noises is unsettling. There are no conversations, not even from TVs or radios. There is no one walking close by. No tricks or drug deals in progress. No vehicles or traffic. No sirens. If anything, it's the lack of sirens that unsettle him the most.

It's replaced by the sounds of nature, some wholly unfamiliar, and it's like Matt's been transplanted into another universe. 

On top of the frogs and crickets, there's an owl close by, hooting every few minutes. Matt wonders if it's calling a mate, or just minding its business. In the cabin, there's the hum of the refrigerator, a sump pump that starts on and off for the toilets, the faint buzzing of electric lines and lightbulbs and practically nothing else.

But one thing that is extremely familiar and reassuring is Foggy, now asleep in his room. It's by focusing on his heartbeat and breathing that Matt manages to fall asleep, too.

**

Catching the fish was fun, because Matt had never tried it before. But he balks at the idea of going back in the boat again so soon. Instead, he's focused on getting into a hammock with a mesh screen that they tied between two trees earlier. The ridicule potential – if he turns over or falls off – is pretty high, but Matt is determined to succeed. Slowly but surely he gets in position and once it stabilizes it's pretty comfortable. Especially since it's a mosquito free environment, with the mesh. The light swing of the hammock is calming, and Matt decides it's something he could enjoy. 

Fortunately Matt's refusal to fish doesn't bother Foggy, who's walking slowly by the lake's edge, almost folded in half. He stays still for long seconds, then moves a bit, then stills again. It's as if he's stalking something.

"What are you doing?" Matt asks.

"Shh. Frogs."

Matt has never chased frogs. "I want to try."

"Sure!"

He nearly overturns while getting out of the hammock, but Matt makes it okay, and joins Foggy in his hunt. There are lots of different creatures, mainly insects, but he thinks he can make out what must be frogs, too. They're hiding in between plants, mostly. 

"There's one!" Foggy confirms, pointing. "Close, near the medium rock!"

Matt can distinguish it's breathing, but the fact that it's cold blooded muddles the perception. When Stick had him hunting rats and pigeons, they were a lot more obvious. Nonetheless Matt is patient, moves very carefully, and then makes his move. He does snatch it, but it's tiny and squishy and Matt is immediately afraid he'll crush the poor thing, which allows it to slip through his fingers. He thought it would be slimy, but it wasn't. Just cold and very soft.

Foggy delights at the fumble. "So close!"

After a couple more tries he does catch one, barely as big as his thumb. He can feel its heartbeat going crazy while Foggy coos, and announce it's a Spring Peeper. They name it Peeper Tom, and then release it back on a rock, from where it jumps in the lake and hurries away. 

After that Foggy grabs Matt's arm as if it's still a thing they do all the time – he wishes - and guides him as they walk. He's treated to the full description of what Foggy sees, from the colors around them to his thoughts on what to do if they come face to face with a bear. Matt hears creatures skedaddling as they come closer, small and sometimes bigger. There are even animals that don't mind them at all. Foggy takes them down a path meandering through the wood, and at one point Matt stops them, points up in a tree, and asks what Foggy sees. Squirrels he knows, but this is way bigger.

"A porcupine, it's huge! What is it doing?"

"It sounds as if it's chewing?" Matt guesses.

"Oh, right. Probably eating whatever porcupines eat."

Matt laughs. "Probably."

It's a nice way to spend an afternoon. Getting a good sense of his surroundings is trickier in the forest than the city. Matt is used to more definite forms in solid blocks, with wall and fences, even dumpsters. Here the trees and bushes are irregular, growing however they want, and it requires more concentration to have a clear portrait. He's experimenting different ways to superimpose the feedback from his senses – wind in the leaves, temperature gradient, the taste of pine in the air and the top soil of the forest - which probably explains how it takes him a lot longer than normal to spot something big.

There's an animal smell, strong, and the beast is close by, near the water. No, it's in fact in the water, Matt rectifies as it moves and he hears the water displacing. The animal has a shape reminiscent of a horse with long legs, but also antlers so it's definitely not a bear. 

"Hey, Foggy," Matt whispers and points again. "There."

"Where? That's a bush, Matt, very ordinary," he says just as hushed. Carefully Matt moves them to the right, until Foggy's view is unobstructed. "Oh, shit!" he says, reverently. "A real live moose. Whoa."

"Yeah?"

Foggy's fingers are gripping Matt's arm so hard, he's pretty sure it's going to bruise. Totally inappropriately, Matt muses that he would like that, being marked by Foggy. Maybe not like this exactly, maybe elsewhere, but close enough. 

"It's huge," Foggy adds.

"Everything is huge, it seems," Matt mocks.

"Well it's true! It's way bigger than a horse. It seems in a good mood, having lunch."

"Moose can get in a bad mood?" Matt asks, keeping his voice low. The moose knows where they are, though it doesn't seem to care, only his ears flicking. And that movement may be annoyance or might be because of the flies.

"Are you kidding me?" Foggy says. "YouTube showed me that don't want one of those charging you. Can you imagine?"

"Not really, but we should go," Matt decides.

"Agreed. It was nice seeing you, King of the Forest," Foggy says with a bow, and then beams when the moose seems to nod back.

**

That night, Foggy break out the booze that he had totally not hidden from Matt in his suitcase – the sloshing, clinking and unsubtle scent was a dead giveaway as soon as he'd entered the rental. Matt still acts surprised, just to please Foggy.

"Now we're talking!" Matt says as Foggy pours him a shot of whiskey.

"To our vacation!" Foggy toasts, and Matt clicks his glass back.

"To our vacation."

After they have downed the shot, Foggy clears his throat. "You're not mad, right? That I forced you to come?"

Matt shakes his head. "No, no. Of course not. It's been great. I love spending time with you."

And oops, one drink in and his tongue is already trying to get loose. He should be more careful, even though it's the absolute truth.

"Aww, me too buddy. I might not be all black and blue, but I realize I needed a vacation, too."

"Yeah, you're working a lot," Matt agrees. Of course a start up business takes a lot of time, but Foggy does more than his share.

Somehow they get in the same old same old "do you remember when-" University stories they revisit every time they drink, and soon enough they both have a very pleasant buzz going on. Matt can judge his by how mellow he feels, every little thing cracking him up. As for Foggy, he has followed Matt shot for shot, even though it's never a good idea. He's talking a bit slower than normal, a sure sign that he's tipsy. When Foggy comes back from the bathroom, he stops by the shelves with all of the crap.

"I don't think piceni, huh, pichenottes would be a good idea," Matt says. He starts laughing at the idea of flicking the wooden pieces but have them fly off the board.

"Definitely not a good idea," Foggy agrees. "But this, though. Hey, there's an old record player."

"Is this a cabin or a time capsule?" Matt wonders.

"Maybe it works?" Foggy is plugging it in, then doing tests. Matt waits, and soon he hears the table turning. Then Foggy selects a square-no-a-circle thing – a record, sure – and soon a song starts playing. The song is instantly recognizable, though the beat is a little off.

Matt grins. "La Bamba." 

"Yeah, cha-cha style! My grandma looooved that shit. This is a record of oldies formatted for dancing," Foggy, bobbing his head in time with the song.

Not missing a beat, he starts pushing some chairs and the coffee table against the wall, freeing a space in the middle of the living room.

"Come on," he finally says, making come hither motions at Matt.

"What?"

"You're not stupid, get up!" Foggy says. "Let's dance."

It makes Matt laugh. "I don't dance!"

"You do dance, I've seen it!" Foggy argues.

"Slow dances, yes," Matt agrees. He likes, it, too. Loves the intimacy of it. He's never danced cha-cha or whatever this is.

"And that's why I will teach you," Foggy declares.

"You know how to dance to this?"

"This, and jive, rumba, most of that shit," Foggy says as if it's not completely new and baffling information. 

Matt never saw Foggy do any kind of ballroom dancing before, though it's true that the bars they hung out in never played the appropriate music for him to do so.

"I told you, my grandma loved oldies and all of those dances. She showed me, and through the years I've had to prove my lineage at my cousin's weddings and all. I think I remember enough to get by. So come on, Murdock, get your ass over here so we can dance."

And, incredibly, they do. Foggy is a good teacher, and he guides Matt through very basic steps at first. Matt catches on fairly fast and they alternate dancing and shots, laughing when they stumble or a foot gets stepped on. The disastrous spins Foggy tries to make Matt do have them laughing so hard he cries and then gets the hiccups. Through it all, Matt is getting a buzz more from Foggy's touching -- may it be on his hips, hand or shoulders -- than from the alcohol. 

It's one of the best evenings Matt's ever had, hands down. If he wasn't so desperately pining for Foggy to see him as more than a friend, it would be perfect.

** 

Unfortunately, hangovers do not magically disappear while on vacation. Not that it's a very bad one for Matt, but he's got a mild headache and a floaty stomach that is unpleasant. He does manage to get most of the effects of their drinking under control by meditating on the front porch, bathed in the morning's sunlight. He keeps it up until Foggy finally starts stirring when the sun is pretty high in the sky. Matt moves his focus to him, and it's fun to predict his moves, like how Foggy will stretch each limb in turn before going limp for long minutes again. Even after years of not living together, Foggy still has the same routine in little and big things. Once he's fixed himself a coffee, Foggy finally joins Matt outside.

"Good morning," Foggy says, voice quieter than normal. He's probably even more hungover than Matt.

"Morning."

After a couple of sips of his coffee, Foggy eventually speaks up again.

"How about we give this fishing thing another go?" 

"I'm not that fond of the boat," Matt says. 

"I noticed. No, this time I thought we could just sit on the dock?" 

If Foggy is so interested in fishing, why should Matt deny him?

"Why not."

After dressing up and scarfing down a couple of pieces of peanut butter toast, they set up on the little dock that is used to tie the boat. It's not long, reaching maybe fifteen feet into the water, and they sit down at the end of it, feet dangling. Foggy still puts on the bait on the hooks with various disgusted noises, but apart from that they fish in silence. It's unusual for Foggy to be so subdued, but the mood is comfortable. Matt can even say it's relaxing. He reigns in a smile, because as much as he felt the vacation was pretty much forced on him when they left New York, he's obligated to say that it is working. Matt is healing fast, only a twinge remaining here and there, and he's slept almost uninterrupted for the second night in a row. Yes, it's doing him some good.

They do catch a couple of fish, but Foggy says they are uneatable – Matt doubts that Foggy knows fish species, though - so they are released back into the lake. Probably because Foggy doesn't want them to be killed, but that's okay. Their mid-afternoon lunch ends up being tomato sandwiches, which is fine,.

"Okay, enough fishing!" Foggy says once he's set the dirty dishes aside to wash later. "I'm going for a swim! Are you coming? I'm going to change."

Swimming for fun hasn't been an activity that Matt has done a lot since the accident, and even less after he lost his father. No one spontaneously suggest to a blind guy that they could go swimming. Except for Foggy, it seems, who is often the exception to the rules anyway.

Unwilling to sour Foggy's mood, Matt puts on swimming trunks and a t-shirt, as he plans only walking in the water and he needs protection from the mosquitos. When he comes out of the cabin, Foggy is wading in.

"How weird," he's saying. "The water is cool, but sometimes there's a warm current."

"Used to happen at the public pool, too," Matt jokes as he walks right up to the shore. 

It's peculiar, how the sounds of his feet hitting the ground are swallowed by water and the sandy bottom as he steps in. As for Foggy, he's not far but all that Matt can distinguish is his head and his breathing, the sound of his heartbeat dimmed too. That and the light splashing, as Foggy swims in small figure eights, not dunking his head in the water even once. 

"Come in, the water's great!"

Matt hesitates, but why not. He strips off his t-shirt, and puts it on a nearby rock with his towel.

"Damn," Foggy says.

"What?" Matt asks. He can't quite decipher Foggy's tone.

"You have a lot of scars and bruises, buddy," he says.

"It's nothing," Matt dismisses. "I was afraid you'd tell me the lake is full of leeches."

"Leeches?" Foggy says with alarm. "Do you think there are leeches?"

"Nah." At least he hopes not. 

Matt walks into the water, but no, he doesn't feel like swimming all that much. When he has water over the knee, he sits down in the sand instead. Like this the water level comes to his shoulder, and Matt enjoys how cool it is, even though it smells of lake things. On top, it should help him escape most of the mosquitos, which is always a plus.

"So, how are you doing?" Foggy asks, swimming closer.

"Fine, good idea. I'm going to stay here, though."

"Sure," Foggy says, swimming away. 

He's using the breast stroke, which Matt generally associates with old ladies. But Foggy makes it half graceful and half a bit dorky, which makes Matt smile with fondness. 

**

After dinner, Matt is aching for some physical exertion. He has trained dutifully every day for years, and the sudden break from that particular routine is destabilizing. And yes, maybe Matt misses hitting on organized crime right now, in the literal sense of the word.

Foggy reads from an ancient Reader's Digest – the jokes are awful, but it's to be expected- while Matt does series of push ups, crunches, and even some pulls up by gripping the top of a door frame.

"I'm exhausted just looking at you," Foggy says. 

His heart is a little fast, and Matt wonders if by exercising like this he's not making Foggy's physical insecurities flare up. Ninety percent of the time Foggy is very confident in what he is and how he looks, but he does bemoan that he's not as fit as he'd like to be sometimes. To avoid making him uncomfortable, Matt decides to continue training outside.

"I'm going to go for a run," Matt says.

"What? Will you be okay? Don't get lost in the woods, Matt!"

"I'll be fine," Matt says. "I can follow a path, no problem. And if I'm not back in one hour, holler and if I'm turned around I'll be able to come back by tracking your voice."

"That's not reassuring at all," Foggy says. "For your information."

"I swear, I'll be back soon."

**

It's a very nice run, all in all. Running on dirt is easier on the joints than doing it on pavement, and the track is well kept so Matt doesn't have to worry about branches or rocks in his path. He's also getting used to how sounds bounce in foliage and between trees, and the smells are rich and soothing.

He's on his way back when he takes notice of a car, closer than he's heard in the last few days. Minutes after, when Matt focuses on the cabin he can hear other people than Foggy. It's perplexing, because they are not expecting visitors. 

He runs faster, and soon he can make out what is being said.

"This place was supposed to be empty," a man declares. 

"It was a last minute booking, but it doesn't have to be a problem," Foggy says. His voice is tight, and something must be wrong. "I'll just take the car and get out of your hair."

"No fucking way," a second man says, one with a voice a little shriller. Nervous, maybe. "He's going to call the cops."

Why would Foggy need to call the cops? Matt doesn't like this at all. He runs as fast as he can while still listening closely.

"No, why would I do that?" Foggy says, his 'aww shucks innocent act'. "Hum. Could you put the gun away please? I'm not a threat, I'm sure you can see that."

A fucking _gun_? Matt has no idea what is going on, but what is clear is that Foggy is in danger and that is unacceptable. It makes him want to storm the cabin as soon as he gets there, but that might get Foggy hurt. Maybe Matt can lure the men outside, one at a time. He's close enough to get a better picture of the situation now, and since there are just two people inside with Foggy, it could be doable. 

"What now?" The nervous man asks. He does have a gun, waves it around too.

"For now we keep an eye on him." The guy in charge is near Foggy, who is sitting in one of the kitchen chairs. "Where's your friend?" 

"What friend? I have no friend. I'm all alone here," Foggy says. It's a good thing that Matt is the only person around able to hear heartbeats, because the lie is more than obvious. Foggy's heart is racing, and the beat of it jumps all over the place.

"Don't bullshit me!" The man shouts, looming even more over Foggy as he tries to intimidate.

Matt is at the edge of the woods near the cabin now, and he has to be careful not to be seen from inside. 

"I'm a slob, that's all," Foggy says. "I tend to leave all kinds of stuff out. Like more than one glass on a table. It's a problem."

The other guy does a quick tour of the cabin, and unfortunately it doesn't take long.

"You sleep in two beds, too?" he asks Foggy.

"I woke up drenched from a nightmare, so I changed beds." You've got to give it to Foggy, he thinks fast. 

The reply makes the looming man scoff with amusement. "Smartass. Let's hope your friend behaves when he gets back."

"Or she? Is it your sister?" The other man asks. His tone turns vile. "Is she pretty?"

And wow, that's skeevy. Matt already disliked him on principle, because he was a threat to Foggy, but now he's disgusted. The other one sure has a temper, because he hits hard on the table, making Foggy jump in fear (and putting him on top of Matt's shit list, immediately).

"Where!" Angry yells.

"I said, I'm alone," Foggy valiantly protests. 

From what Matt can decipher, Skeevy is close to the window, but facing the inside of the cabin for the moment. Matt crouches and runs to it, flattening right by the door. 

Should he go in and use the element of surprise? Foggy will be in between him and Angry, though, and that's not ideal. Matt cannot allow for him to get hurt, not on his watch. He'll try to get Skeevy outside first, and Matt hopes that he'll manage to make Angry move towards the door next.

Matt is tempted to knock on the door and hide, like a kid. It would do the trick for a rapid distraction, he's sure of it, but it would most probably turn the whole thing into a hostage situation. If only it was night, then Matt would have an advantage. The sun is setting, yes, and the lights are on in the cabin, but it's dusk so probably clear enough. He thinks. Anyhow, Matt can't take the chance.

Since Matt needs Skeevy out of the cabin proper, he'll have to lure him out. Instead of making noise on the porch, he moves back to the cars. Their unwanted visitors are parked right next to the rental, a bit behind the cabin. It's a nice place to hide out of sight of the door, and, using a branch that he finds nearby on the ground, Matt taps on the car's rim. It does a tic-tic-tic that sounds loud enough to him, but no one reacts inside.

Angry is now of the opinion that Foggy should go out on the porch and call for his friend to come back. It's of course accompanied by threats that if Foggy tries anything to warn him, or to run, there will be trouble.

"I don't think you get it," Foggy says. He's starting to get pissed, and he knows that they don't believe at all that he's alone. Most of all, he probably hates the idea of calling Matt into a dangerous situation because he's a mother hen like that. "You don't want him to come back."

"Ha ha!" Skeevy exclaims. "See, we knew you weren't alone!"

"He knew we knew it," Angry says with a tone that shows he thinks his partner is an idiot. "And why would we not want your friend to come back? If he's police, he's dead."

"No, no, no!" Foggy says, backtracking. "We're not police, we're lawyers!"

And what the hell, why is Foggy giving info to those men? Matt taps a lot harder on the wheel with his branch, tac-tac-tac, then pauses. Then tac-tac-tac-tac again. He hopes they hear, or he'll have to think of something else fast.

"Did you hear that?" Angry asks while Skeevy comments on how all lawyers are scum.

"Hear what?" Skeevy asks, and Matt taps on the wheel again, tac-tac-tac. tac-tac. 

"Someone's outside," Angry says. "Go and bring them back."

"Hey, hey, don't go out waving a gun! What if it's a kid?" Foggy says rapidly. He knows it's Matt and he's trying to warn him. "A big guy like you, no need for that!"

Not giving a shit, Skeevy opens the door and walks out, sure of himself. His gun is pointed forward, and Matt wouldn't be surprised for him to be the type to shoot first and wonder if it was the right move after. 

"Come out, come out, whoever you are!" Skeevy sing-songs. 

Matt has left the cars to get in position behind the cabin. He throws a handful of gavel around the corner to turn Skeevy's attention towards him.

"No need to hide," Skeevy says, in what Matt suppose is his reasonable tone. "We'll just go inside. See your friend."

He's coming closer, closer, close enough and as soon as he clears the side of the cabin Matt grabs Skeevy's extended arm by the wrist that holds the gun. He twists the weapon out of his grasp and before Skeevy can shout in alarm, Matt hits his throat with the heel of his other hand. Right behind that move, Matt grabs Skeevy by the hair and knocks him out with a good knee to the head. The whole sequence takes less than five seconds, and is thankfully practically soundless. Matt grabs Skeevy under the arms and drags him behind the cabin proper, out of sight of the porch. If he had rope or zip ties, Matt would secure him, but Skeevy does sound out for the count. 

Inside the cabin Foggy is chatting up a storm, most certainly trying to cover any fighting noises.

"Look, I'll get the car, hopefully find my friend down the road as he comes back, and we'll just… not be here. No fuss, no muss."

"Are you completely stupid, or do you only look like it?" Angry asks. 

"Rude!" Foggy actually sounds offended.

"No one is leaving until we're done," Angry declares.

"I don't suppose I could ask how long that might take?"

"No. And you're lucky I don't like to waste bullets on imbeciles."

"Which explains why your partner is still alive, surely," Foggy says.

That does make Angry chuckle. "It does. What the hell is he doing, anyway?"

Angry whistles, loudly. "Hey! What's up?"

Not that Skeevy can reply at the moment.

When Angry's second hail is met only with silence, Matt hopes that Angry will go at the door and check for himself. But unfortunately he stays by Foggy's side. Dammit.

Matt has got to think fast on this. He stomps on the porch, opens the door with one hand in the air and looking down at the ground as if subdued.

"Okay, okay, don't hurt me, I'm coming in," Matt says. 

The goal is to take a couple of steps in the room and then attack before Angry notices his buddy is not following. The problem with that plan is that Foggy and Angry are well into the cabin, a good 20 feet away. Matt has to get as far inside as rapidly he can. 

Unfortunately Angry is more intelligent than Matt had hoped, and realizes something is up almost immediately. The worst is that he keeps his gun trained on _Foggy_.

"Fox?" he calls, then adds for Matt. "You stop right there."

Since he can't afford taking more time, Matt immediately starts to run towards Angry. He expects having to duck when the guy fires, but instead – and it seems to happen in slow motion, making Matt feels helpless to prevent it - Angry pistol-whips Foggy on the side of the head. It's a quick and violent reaction to Foggy's attempt to distract him by a shove. Foggy is immediately out like a light, slumping in his chair, and there is blood in the air (a cut to his scalp, more likely). 

Even worse than hurting Foggy, Angry is now taking off the gun's safety off and still pointing in Foggy's direction. Maybe it's because he's slow to point up, or he has a mind to finish the job, but in the next second Matt jumps feet first and connects with his weapon. There's a stray shot that lodges in the wall of the bathroom, and Angry drops the gun to the floor. 

Matt is on him in a second. 

He's taken by a fury that he rarely dares to unleash. This man, this _scum_ hurt Foggy. Matt hits as hard as he can, and catches Angry's jaw, his ribs – he feels and hears at least two of them break, good – then knees him in the balls with fierce dark pleasure. The guy, is physically taller and more muscled than Matt, but there's no substance or fight in him at all. He's rapidly reduced to a ball of whimpering asshole on the floor as Matt kicks him over and over again. 

In this moment Matt is pure Wrath, vibrating with it. There's blood in his mouth from a cut in his cheek but he can taste Foggy's on the air too, which decuples his savagery. The flames that comprise Matt's universe are coalescing on the man on the floor. Inside, everything is white hot to a point that all Matt feels is cold. Someone needs to cleanse the Earth of this lowlife, who dared -.

"Matt! Stop!"

It's Foggy's voice that pulls him back, just as he's about to kick Angry in the head. Matt stumbles as he reigns in his movement, half falling on the table beside them.

"Jesus, you're going to kill him," Foggy says, voice slurring a little.

Killing is bad. Matt once knew that. So he stops because he's been asked to, by Foggy, so it must be the right thing to do. Matt is breathing so hard, it's worse than if he had sprinted for over a mile, and the fight must not have lasted more than five minutes. He falls to his knees by Foggy's chair, reaches for his head and slowly caresses Foggy's scalp, trying to assess the damage. Head wounds bleed a lot, so Matt's relieved to feel that the cut is only about half an inch long.

"How do you feel?" he asks, worried nonetheless. There's a lot of swelling already.

"Not so good," Foggy says, voice a little shaky. "But better than him."

Matt doesn't even acknowledge Angry on the floor, who is moaning in pain. Anyway, he's not a threat and the gun is way out of reach.

"He hurt you." It's explanation enough. No one should hurt Foggy, ever. 

"I feel as if I'm going to throw up," Foggy says. "That's not good, huh?"

"You're concussed. Double vision?"

"No. A bit blurry though. Fuck, I can't drive like this!"

They do need to get away before someone else arrives. It's obvious that Skeevy and Angry were part of something bigger, and they cannot afford being caught again in whatever it is. And no, Foggy can't drive like this, though maybe…

"I could give it a shot," Matt suggests.

"Are you nuts?" Foggy exclaims. "Superpowers or not, there is no way I'm letting you drive on these roads."

"I won't go fast, and I'll stay on the free space in front of the car, therefore the road," Matt says. It sounds reasonable to him, if not ideal.

Matt gets up to fetch an ice pack for Foggy's head. Angry, who has started trying to crawl away, seems to be reaching for a broom. What he wants to do with that is uncertain, but Matt feels no qualm in stepping right on Angry's extended hand. He even puts some weight on it, crushing bones. Angry howl in pain, but it also makes Foggy flinch, which Matt does feel remorseful about.

"I told you, by the way, that you didn't want him to come back," Foggy tells Angry casually.

"Fucking hell," the man whines cradling his hand to his chest.

"They do call me the devil," Matt says. "Stay put."

But Angry is stubborn and doesn't obey, so Matt hits him on the jaw and sends him to dreamland for a little bit. Foggy grumbles but it's mercy, Angry won't feel a thing while he's under.

Matt wraps an ice pack in a wet dishtowel that he brings back to Foggy, and applies it gently against his head. Once it seems Foggy can hold it in place, he searches Angry’s pockets and finds car keys for the car outside, a phone that surely has no more reception than his or Foggy’s but also a walkie-talkie. He also picks up Angry's gun.

"Why are you giving this to me?" Foggy asks when Matt puts it near his hand.

"We don't know who's coming, and you need to be able to defend yourself." Matt hates guns, but they'll do if they help Foggy. "Okay, let's go."

"But our stuff!"

"No time. Get your ID, grab whatever you have close and that's all," Matt orders.

He doesn't want to leave info behind that would help those guys find them until they squared things out with the police.

Matt runs to gather his own wallet, and since most of his stuff is still in his bag the losses - if any - will be minimal. When he comes out of his room, Foggy is in his, just sitting on the bed.

"Are you okay?" Matt worries.

"I just needed a second. I've got the spins."

To hurry things along, Matt carefully hauls him up, hooking Foggy's arm around his neck. He feels weak as a kitten and Matt hates it. "We have to go."

What next? Should they hide in the forest until the danger is gone or Foggy is able to drive? There's the problem that if they leave without a car, Angry and his friends will know they are on foot and could try to hunt them down. And Matt certainly doesn't know how to control a boat. 

But a car… he's sure he could manage a car. Decision made, he leads Foggy to it, and helps him climb in the passenger seat.

It feels weird to be in the driver's seat, that he has to push back a little. Matt is absolutely sure that Foggy is about to tell him to check his mirrors (he's holding his hand towards the middle one) but he refrains in time. Maybe he's not as concussed as Matt fears.

"Maybe I should do it," Foggy says, buckling his seatbelt. 

"No, I've got this. Just tell me."

"Stay in park, easy. Just- Before we go, feel the pedals on the floor. On the right, the slim one, that's the gas, to be used sparely. On the left is your best friend, the brakes."

"Okay." He puts his foot on the brake and turns the key, starting the SUV. Matt has got that shit down. Apart from a couple of details, like the car being very static right now. "How do I get moving already?"

"You need to. Let me. Keep your foot on the brake." Foggy does something to the gearshift that audibly unclenches another part in the bowels of the car. "Okay so it's in reverse. Turn the wheel like this – " Foggy says, moving it himself, "– so we back up first, and turn to point towards the road. Okay, go."

Foggy shrieks when Matt presses too hard on the gas. The car jumps back with a roar, and, alarmed, Matt then stomps on the brake, which whiplashes them back into the dashboard. It's crazy how fast Matt's heart is beating, and by his side Foggy groans.

"Ow, my head! Are you trying to finish the job?"

"Sorry, sorry," Matt apologizes. The feeling of losing control of this hulking piece of metal and plastic wasn't pleasant at all, but the last thing he wanted was to hurt Foggy more.

"We're switching place," Foggy declares. "I must be really brain damaged to have thought this was a good idea"

"You can't drive!" Foggy is concussed, he probably won't have the attention needed.

"I can, I'll go real slow and be careful. Come on."

He's already out, going around the vehicle and with a sigh Matt does the same. He's about to climb in the passenger seat when he hears Skeevy coming to,

"Where are you going?" Foggy asks when Matt leaves the car.

"Just a second."

Matt detours to punch Skeevy in the jaw for another count, and then searches him for his cell phone. Inside the cabin, Angry is still unmoving, so he and Foggy have several minutes to make their getaway.

"Okay, let's go," he says, climbing back in the Sportage.

The steep and windy dirt drive that goes up towards the road that circles the lake will be a challenge, it's already obvious. Foggy, has, as best as Matt can guess, his eyes squinted and he's taking deep breaths. He also drives very slowly and Matt is pretty sure he'd go faster while walking.

"Are you okay?" Matt asks again.

"No, but it has to do. I keep seeing blurry. If I go too fast, I'll drive us in the ditch, or crash in a tree."

Matt bites the inside of his cheek. He could probably drive without problems, now that Foggy has pointed the car in the right direction and he knows to be really careful with the gas. But he doesn't suggest it because he's pretty sure he'd be shot down. Instead, Matt tries to ignore every sound that comes from the car and rolling on the dirt road to sense a little further. Unfortunately he soon hears something in the distance. And it's coming towards them.

"Fuck!" Matt curses, frustrated. 

Foggy jumps in his seat and steps on the brake. "What?" 

"There's a car coming towards us." Now that they are not moving anymore, he hears better. "No, two cars. It must be whomever Angry was waiting for."

"Angry?" Foggy sounds puzzled but gets it without the need for an explanation. "Oh, right. Shit."

They are trapped. If they go back towards the cabin, they'll end up with Angry and Skeevy again. And whomever is driving down is blocking the access to the main road ahead. They have to think fast, because those people are certainly not driving like little old ladies.

"Drive the car into the woods," Matt says. "Come on, quick."

He has to hide Foggy, make sure he's safe, at least until those guys are through.

"What the hell!" Foggy exclaims.

"The others had guns and these ones won't let us pass, not if they are planning something bad. We'll hide the car, wait until they have passed, then we’ll go back on the road."

"Right, right," Foggy says, veering off into the woods. Frankly, this vehicle is not made for real rough terrain because they are thrown left and right at the smallest bump or rock. "I'll go behind the bushes," he adds. "Hopefully they won't see us."

"Hurry," Matt urges, hands closed in fists. Will they be fast enough to hide?

It's rough going and Foggy makes a little hurt noise at one point, the rocking must be jolting his head. The four wheels are not even totally stopped when the two cars pass by them. Foggy slips down in his seat, though it's not really necessary. There is quite a bit of foliage between them and the drive. As soon as Matt deems the cars far enough towards the cabin, after a bend that put them out of sight, he urges Foggy to get back on the road.

"Okay, go, go, go!"

They have less than 15 minutes to make their escape, if even that.

Unfortunately, even as the motor revs up, the car doesn't move. At least two wheels are spinning in the mud.

"Shit, shit, shit," Foggy says. He opens his door and his shoulder slump. "Godfuckingdammit. We're not getting out of this."

"I can go push," Matt says, opening his door.

"No use. We're eight inches deep, no pushing will do. This car will get out of this spot only with a tow and a good winch."

Fuck. Matt hits the dashboard, frustrated and worried out of his mind for Foggy. "We can't stay here, they might double back."

"Why? They think we're gone."

"They didn't see us, but they might come back and look for us."

"Maybe they’ll believe we made it to the Lake Drive!" Foggy argues.

"They didn't see us coming in."

"Well, we might have taken the other side!"

It's a sound argument.

"True, but they might look for us anyway. You can't stay in the car."

"I can't stay in the car?" Foggy asks. He seems disappointed. 

Matt shakes his head. "Too easy to find."

"I have the gun!"

"Please, Foggy," Matt begs. "We'll find a good spot so you can hide."

"Where I can hide?" Foggy isn't buying this. "Where _we_ can hide!"

"No, no, I'm going back there. I'll get another car." It's his plan and it will work.

Foggy doesn't sound convinced at all. "Are you nuts? I think we saw earlier that you can't successfully drive, Matt!"

"I could have! I know better now, it was just a mistake," Matt argues. "I pressed too hard on the gas and that's all!"

"This is so stupid!" Foggy exclaims, throwing his hand in the air. "Okay, then, I'm going with you. I'll drive the car."

"You are in no condition to go back there. You'll hide and come out when I come back."

And boy, those kinds of orders never work well with Foggy. 

"I won't and that's final," he replies crossing his arms. 

And the thing is? Foggy, with his sunshine nature and generally good disposition is, deep down, one of the most pigheaded people Matt knows. When Foggy decides something and gets all hissy like this? He will do as he wants, no matter the consequences. Matt does know why Foggy wants to come, though.

"I'll be careful," he tries to reassure.

"We have no idea how many bad guys just went down the road," Foggy says.

"It can't be that many," Matt says. He doesn't say he counted five people. "I've seen worse odds."

"Not in a place you aren't familiar with."

Foggy has a point, but it won't stop Matt. "I'll have to outsmart them. That's all”

“What if we walk towards Lake Drive instead, and try to flag down some help?” Foggy suggests. 

He half likes that idea: it puts Foggy further from the action, but on the other hand…

“What if it's one of them who is just a little late?” Matt counters. They cannot take that risk.

“Yeah. Shit,” Foggy agrees. “That would be bad. No, I'm going with you.”

Matt sometimes knows when to pick his battles, and that’s one he has no chance to win. Wordlessly he turns and walks towards the cabin, Foggy following the best he can.

**

“It’s really fucking dark,” Foggy complains at one point and Matt nods. It’s one thing that might give them a chance.

He’s focused on the conversation from the cabin where there has been quite a commotion caused by finding both Angry and Skeevy incapacitated. 

“Someone splash them with water or something.” The new voice sounds impatient.

“Yes, boss.”

They do just that and there is simultaneous groaning as Angry and Skeevy come to.

“What the hell, Chris?” the boss asks. 

The one Matt has been calling Angry answers. “T'was two guys, they were staying here.”

“Jones' crew? Do we have a leak?”

“No, no,” Chris says. ”They looked like tourists, renting the cabin.” 

“What?” the boss sounds furious. “I thought it was free.”

“I checked last weekend!” Skeevy protests. “It was free!”

“You should have re-checked this morning,” Chris says. “Ow. What time is it?” 

“9:45. When did this happen?”

“Not long. Fifteen minutes? I remember checking the time at around 9:25, waiting for the second guy.”

“What do you mean waiting?” the boss seems pretty fed up with his crew.

“We had the first secured, waiting for his pal to come back,” Chris says.

“But he got us instead,” Skeevy finishes.

“Yeah. I clocked the first, but the second guy, he just... he came at me even though I had a gun. And then… well he was fast, and strong, and there was nothing I could do.” 

Matt gets a great deal of satisfaction at how his pal Chris can’t shake the fear from his voice. Good. 

“And then they left?” the boss asks.

“I suppose. Is the silver Sportage still there?”

“No. But if that happened 15 minutes ago, we should have met them on the drive.”

You didn't pass any car?” Chris asks.

“No, not even on Lake Drive, not since past Holland,” adds another voice, more high pitched.

“They took the other side, then,” Skeevy says.

“It leads nowhere but to other properties, not even 5 miles from here. It's a dead end,” Chris says.

“I know,” Skeevy says. “But maybe they don't.”

It’s true, Matt had no idea.

“Do we call off the operation?” Chris asks. 

“It's in 15, so, no, I don't think so,” the boss says. “You don't abort a 46 kilos deal fifteen minutes before a drop.”

And wow, 46 kilos? If he focuses, Matt can perceive the distinct smell of cocaine in the new cars. Depending on how pure the shit is, it could be worth up to 10 million dollars.

“They can't get to Holland in that time, anyway,” one of the men says.

Matt and Foggy have reached the end of the drive now. Foggy’s been walking with a hand in the middle of Matt’s back, saying it was so dark he could barely can see where he was stepping. It’s rare that Matt’s the one guiding, and he would enjoy it if the situation wasn’t so dangerous.

“Now what?” Foggy whispers. “I see the two new cars, they are blocking the first one.”

Which is the one they have the keys of. Of course.

“There are five new men inside,” Matt shares in return. “Armed. We can’t just try to take a car, they’ll be on us in seconds.”

“What the fuck are they doing with guns in the middle of the woods?” Foggy asks. “It’s certainly not hunting.”

“There’s a lot of cocaine in the cars.”

“Ohh, they're passing drugs to Canada!” Foggy says.

“What?”

“Yeah, that must be it. We’re right on the border, the other side is Canada. In a little place like this, there are no border agents, noting. They must use the boat to get the drugs to the other side.”

It fits. “They are surprised the cabin was occupied.”

“Fuck. I got it through Caldwell's secretary,” Foggy says. “She couldn't join him, he's on vacation somewhere. But she told me she knew no one was here, so why not rent it to me.”

“Do you think Caldwell is in on this?” Matt asks.

“Who knows? What do we do now?”

“We don't do anything,” Matt says. “I will.”

Foggy bristles. “And what, exactly, will you do?”

“Bring them down, tie them up, call 911 as soon as we find a signal.”

“You want to go in, alone, and take care of seven armed guys all by yourself?” Foggy asks. His heartbeat is getting elevated in agitation.

“I've seen worse.”

“Not funny,” Foggy says.

“It's doable,” Matt insists.

“I don't like it!”

“We can't just take the first car, it's blocked,” Matt says. 

“Maybe one of the new ones has a key in the ignition.”

“What if it does?” Matt asks.

“We sabotage the other cars, then take one to get away.”

“Fine,” Matt compromises. 

He'd prefer stopping the criminals, too, but he also wants to minimize any chance of Foggy getting further hurt.

“I'll go see,” stupidly brave Foggy says.

Matt wants to protests that he'll go, but he relents, lets him have some agency. “I'm coming, too.”

Carefully, they make their way to the car, making sure it's between them and the cabin in case someone comes out. The conversation has started back inside.

“One man did this?” asks one of the two muscled new guys.

“He took me by surprise!” Skeevy protests. 

“Well, he's crazy fast,” Chris says. “And probably a mixed martial arts fighter. There's something he said, how they called him the Devil.”

“Fighter name?” the boss asks.

“Could be. I thought he was going to kill me, until his friend stopped him.”

“And that friend, you said you got him?”

“Yeah, soft little bitch, that one. Quite a mouth on him, though,” Chris says.

Matt almost snarls. How dare he speak of Foggy like this?

“What?” Foggy whispers. “What is going on?”

“I should have hit him harder,” Matt offers as sole explanation.

“Enough of that,” Foggy chides. He rapidly stands up to look in the car, then crouches down once again. “No luck, there are no keys in the ignition.”

“That means I just need to get them,” Matt says. It will be his pleasure to beat the ever-loving shit out of these guys.

“Or we could hide until they do their thing and leave?”

It makes Matt pause. He understands why Foggy suggests it. He's afraid that Matt will get hurt.

“There are a lot of drugs, Foggy,” he says. “Do you really want them to get away with it?”

“No! But I want even less for you get shot! The whole idea of coming here was to make you relax, to get away from the fights just for a little bit.”

Matt chuckles. “It figures we'd get in the middle of this, huh?”

“I know, right?” Foggy sounds a little bit amused. “Jeez. You really think there's a way to take them out without you getting hurt?”

“Yes.” 

The odds that he might get hurt are there, but Matt is confident. And the drug deal is going to go down soon. Minutes now. Speaking of, the boss is rounding up his men.

“There is nothing much we can do about those guys now. Let's bring the shit to Johnny as scheduled, and then we'll track them down. Big and Joe, you're on the boat. Ken, you know the drill.”

“Wait for the transfer confirmation, then hand it over.” That must be Ken, the little voice from earlier.

“Yes,” the boss agrees. “No fuss.”

“It really blows that there's satellite reception on the other side of the lake and not here,” Skeevy complains.

“It wouldn't surprise me that it's how Johnny wants it,” the boss replies.

“Foggy, you need to stay hidden, they're coming out soon,” Matt says.

“I have the gun!”

It would be just like him to step into the fight. 

"I'd prefer if you just kept out of the way, so I'm not distracted. Plus it's going to be close combat, and I need them all on me, not a couple gunning for you if they spot you.”

“Alright,” Foggy says reluctantly. “You're going to go in there?”

“Depends. Is it fully dark?” He knows the sun set a while ago and it was dark in the woods, but summer dusks tend to linger.

“Pretty dark, yes. It's a new moon, and it's overcast.”

“Then I'll wait for them at the door. Don't move, okay?”

“I won't,” Foggy says. It's a lie, and they both know it. “I won't if all goes well,” he amends, and this time it rings true.

“Fine. Be careful with the gun.”

He's about to go when Foggy takes him in a surprise hug, heart beating fast. 

"Don’t die. Please."

He returns the embrace for a long moment. "I won't," he promises.

After they let go, Matt stretches and cracks his neck, then rapidly runs to the porch. He climbs the stairs being careful of not stepping on the board he noticed creaks every time. Inside, three guys are sitting in the kitchen area, and the general posture of two of them, holding something against their heads, identifies them as Skeevy and Angry, or Chris as he learned. The other man is the calmest, heartbeat strong and steady, and there's a general air that identifies him as the boss.

The four others men are walking towards the door. There are the two who must be the muscle of the operation, carrying with them a pronounced smell of gun oil, and two slighter men, one tall and wiry and the other short, spinning a keychain on his finger. The big guys are first, which frankly is good with Matt. He has grabbed the shovel they used to throw sand on the fire pit from next to the stairs and he's taken a batting stance, poised for the men's exit.

The screen door opens, and as soon as the first big guy clears the doorway, Matt swings like he's aiming for a homerun and the first head is a baseball. The impact is brutal and breaks the man's nose, dropping him to his knees.. Knowing that surprise is his biggest advantage, Matt continues his momentum by pivoting and shoving the handle end of the shovel under the second big guy's jaw, which knocks him backwards, back in the cabin.

It has taken only seconds, but there are immediate reactions, from groans of pain to the two other men jumping backwards and yelling.

“What the fuck!” Ken exclaims, heart going into overdrive.

“He's back!” Adds Chris, who sounds afraid. “Shoot him, shoot him, don't try to fight him!”

Matt's first action is to slap his hand on the light switch and then destroy it with a quick hit of the shovel’s handle, which causes more cursing. Foggy kept complaining that the cabin lacked lamps at night, that there was just the one ceiling lamp and weak at that, so that's one advantage Matt is going to take. He finishes knocking out the guy who got the shovel on the nose by giving him another blow, then Matt quickly rolls further in the room because the tall skinny guy has his gun out, now, and Matt doesn't want to see if he'll risk firing when the two big guys could be hit too. He throws the shovel, gets the little one but it doesn't do much damage.

“Where is he!” Ken asks, panicked. 

“Chris, Fox, go!” The boss man demands. 

“To the left, boss!” Skeevy, who must be Fox, says.

The boss is holding both hands up, something rectangular in one and a gun in the other. He must be using a cell phone as a flashlight, like Foggy often does. It’s clear that the boss has absolutely no hesitance in using his weapon. Matt ducks just before the shot, and then gets up only to roundhouse kick Fox, who has reached him. Matt's lucky, hitting Fox right on the temple where he clocked him earlier, and Fox goes down like a marionette that has had its strings cut. 

Tall skinny guy, boss man and Chris all aim their guns in Matt's direction and this is getting too hot. Matt runs for the door and dives outside on the porch, over the two big guys who are thankfully still KO-ed. Five shots follow his escape, all going wide. They probably expect Matt to have run away, but he flattens his back against the cabin's big sturdy log wall, right by the door, and waits for the next man to come out. It's tall skinny guy, handgun first, and Matt uses pretty much the same moves that worked with Skeevy earlier, behind the cabin. By the time Matt is shoving his knee into tall and skinny’s face, he's got a fourth unconscious criminal and three to go.

“He got Roger!” Ken yelps.

“Godfuckingdammit,” the boss curses, stomping towards the exit. “Chris, you get out, I'm covering you.”

“Fuck,” Chris is saying under his breath. “I'm a bad shot left handed, boss!” 

“Then use your right!” boss yells. That’s good, he's losing his composure. Rage is in Matt's favor, it means that the man is already thinking less rationally.

“He broke my fucking hand!”

“Whoever you are, you are dead!” Boss yells.

Then, like an ill-timed farce, the boss’ walkie-talkie goes off. 

_"Alpha nine, come in."_

“Shit!” the boss curses. “Chris, Ken, get me that guy, now!”

There are more gunshots, which are surely to make Matt get away from the door. It works, he can't afford getting hit at this point. With a jump Matt grabs the edge of roof over the porch and then climbs on it. He's been counting rounds, and it seems that both Chris and Ken have been too busy to reload. He'll be able to risk a move soon, providing that they are stupid enough not to grab discarded weapons.

"Alpha nine, we need to reschedule," Boss man says.

_"We're hearing that. Five-0?"_

"Not sure."

_"We're out."_

"10-4".

During that time, both Ken and Chris have come out, standing pretty much back to back, and trying to cover the shadowed corner around the cabin. 

“Is he gone?” Ken asks, hopeful.

“Shhh!” Chris says. 

They carefully step down the stairs and just when Chris starts to pivot and could maybe distinguish his silhouette, Matt jumps on top of them. He's aimed for Chris and his weight, combined with the man’s earlier injuries, brings him down.

Ken yelps, scrambling away, but he's lost his gun. Chris, at this point, is protecting his head, too afraid to fight back. Matt gives him a hard punch to the chin, and that's another one biting the dust.

Done with rescheduling his drug delivery, the boss man comes rapidly to the door and is the most serious threat. As soon as Matt hears the trigger being pulled, he flips away, taking a guess on where he'll be safer. Fortunately, it was the right decision. Then there is the tell tale sound of no more bullets entering the gun's chamber and, figuring it's his best chance, Matt charges the guy. Even if Matt knew there was no risk, hearing the 'click' of the misfire about two feet from his face is nerve-wracking. In his peripheral awareness, he hears Foggy let out a strangled "No!", but he can't think about that as he's on the boss man, hitting while the guy realizes what just happened.

“Fuck!”

Matt head butts him, hard, and follows with a knee in the groin. Boss man is pretty tough, because he throws hits of his own, first with the hand with the gun, then with his left. They stumble back in the cabin and exchange a couple of blows, one that clips Matt in the ribs pretty hard. Matt knows he can't drag out this fight: he's getting tired, and he needs for it to stop before the others wake up and get back into the fray. The first big guy who got a shovel to the face is stirring. 

With a series of combos, Matt gives his all, as if he heard the knocks announcing the last ten seconds of a round. Boss man might be tough, but he's a brawler, not a technical fighter. On the third hit to the jaw, Matt's got him.

Outside, Matt hears running towards the cars. Ken is going to make a break for it, especially since the boss isn't in a state to protest.

“No, no, no, you stop right there,” Foggy says. And shit, why did he have to do that? "Don't move.”

“And wait for your friend to break my face? No way,” Ken says.

“Then get flat on the ground, hands on your neck, and he won't hurt you.”

“No, I'm out of here!” Ken is saying, still moving - although slower - towards the cars.

“I have a gun!” Foggy replies, voice a little shrill. He's braced on the second car, gun pointing at Ken. It's not even shaking, and Matt is oddly proud.

“He's right,” Matt says, strolling down the stairs, after kicking big guy number one on the side of the head so he stops moving. “He's got a gun. I'd do as he says, Ken.”

“Fuck,” Ken says, whining. He then does exactly as told.

“Are you okay?” Foggy asks.

"I'm fine," Matt says. He received only a couple of punches, nothing big at all. It's been a very good fight, and he's vibrating with left over adrenaline. He feels _good_. Alive.

"What now?" Foggy asks.

"We need to tie them up." And do it as soon as possible, too. 

"There's that big coil of rope we used to secure the hammock. I'll get it."

"Perfect."

"What are you going to do with me?" Ken asks. "Please, don't throw me to the fishes. "

"Nah," Matt says, kneeling down next to tall skinny guy, who is about to come to. He presses on his neck, cutting his air supply, until he passes out again. He extends his senses to the other men and, save from Ken, they seem pretty secure in dreamland.

"Got it!" Foggy comes back with the big coil of nylon rope. "We need a knife, I'll go get one."

"I have one," Ken helpfully provides. "Back pocket."

Matt blinks and grins as Foggy goes to fish it out with a "Oh, okay, thank you."

It takes a couple of minutes to hogtie everyone. Ken, whom Matt ties up a little less tight than the others, keeps a running commentary of the bad decisions that led him to this moment, until he's told to shut up or he will be silenced. Unsurprisingly he doesn't peep a word after that. When they are done Foggy surveys the scene, hands on his hips.

"Wow. Well, that's something."

"Yeah," Matt says. 

He doesn't know if Foggy gets it, now, the satisfaction of stopping a crime. For Matt, the thrill is too powerful to resist doing again and again and again.

"Are you sure you are okay?"

"Positive," Matt says. "A couple of bruises, maybe. That's it."

"Good, excellent," Foggy says. "What now?"

"We take the drugs back to the police, and send them here before they manage to get free," Matt says.

"I don't know, I'm pretty sure no one is getting free. That's some high skill bondage, Matt. I'm starting to wonder if there isn't more of a story there, with that leather suit you favor," he teases.

Matt ducks his head, because it's not entirely false. He does enjoy, sometimes, being a little… adventurous in the bedroom. 

"Annnd I'm noting the lack of objection, too," Foggy continues, and there's laughter in his voice. Nothing upset or weary, so that's good. Foggy's heart is hard to read, as he's still flushed and riding an adrenaline rush of his own.

"I plead the fifth," Matt says airily. "You've got the car keys, right?"

They went through the pockets of their new friends when trussing them up.

"I do."

"Let's put everything in the car that's not blocked," Matt suggests.

"I'm still torn about moving evidence," Foggy says. 

"What if the guys from across the lake come over? Better be sure the drugs are out of the market."

The forty-six kilos of cocaine are separated in eight bags that feel waterproof. It turns out that half of them are already in their getaway car. Matt tsks and sends Foggy to sit in the car when he tries to go back for the last bag.

"It's fine, I've got it."

"I'm the one who is fine," Foggy says, but his shoulders are drooping. Matt has caught him rubbing the side of his head gingerly several times. Now that the danger is gone, he's probably crashing and the concussion symptoms are more noticeable. 

"Are you sure you can drive?"

"I sure won't let you do it!" Which is unfair, for the record. "I'll go slow."

Slow, it turns out, is an understatement. It's excruciatingly slow, in fact.

"Are you still seeing double?" Matt worries.

"No, but it's pitch black, now. This road is a hazard on a clear sunny day."

"Do as you feel," Matt says, though he'd like to protest that it's exactly the same for him as it was earlier, he could drive no problem. They pass their own car's resting place, which Foggy doesn't even notice, and then finally, after what seems like hours, reach the Lake Drive and turn towards Holland.

"There you go," Matt says. 

This road goes up and down with curves that follow, roughly, the shape of the lake, but it's larger and better maintained than the cabin's access road. Foggy, who had broken into a cold sweat and grabbed the steering wheel with white knuckles, finally relaxes a little. And accelerates, thank god. They might even be going 15 miles an hour now. 

"Okay, okay," Foggy says. "There's a sign saying the village is in 10 miles. I think we're going to make it."

"Sure," Matt says. "We did a good thing, Foggy."

He's convinced of that. Oh, sure, it won't stop whatever big player is doing some free trade business with Canada, but this particular shit won't hit the streets.

"I think so," Foggy admits. "And I've got to admit, that was _hot_ ," Foggy adds with feeling. 

The choice of word makes Matt pause. He wouldn't have given another thought at 'awesome' or 'wicked', but 'hot'? Foggy is a lawyer and a great one at that. He rarely misuses words.

"Yeah?" he asks, not quite daring to get his hopes up. 

It was clear that Foggy was interested in him when they first became roommates. He was clumsy about it, but never hid it. But when Matt didn't reciprocate – at the time, why had he been so stupid? – it went away. Foggy dated, Matt had casual sex from time to time, and they were best friends but not more. 

"Are you kidding me? Very hot, at least what I saw outside. Who knew violence could be sexy."

"Uh." Matt blinks, because this does denote interest. 

All sensory clues coming from Foggy do too. The adrenaline of the bust has passed already, at least Matt believes. What he can detect now is a mix of admiration and arousal, and it's heady.

"And then, after you were done, and you prowled over to get the last guy? Jeez. I think you'll have to bring me to your priest. No offence intended to your heterosexuality, of course."

Matt laughs, because only Foggy would find a fancy way to say no homo.

"Well, my heterosexuality cannot be offended," Matt replies, which makes Foggy nod along. "On the other hand, my bisexuality is flattered."

Foggy turns his head to look at him, mouth falling open. He quickly goes back to look at the road, though. Matt would bet Foggy is the embodiment of surprise right now, and his pulse did pick up.

"Really? How did I not know this?" At least Foggy doesn't sound angry that he's discovering another one of Matt's secrets.

"Because I don't talk about it," Matt says. "To be honest I'm just starting to accept it. Meaning living it, instead of just thinking about it."

Not that he experimented much, since it wasn't with the person he really wanted, but it was enough to know he definitely enjoyed sex with men, too, not just women.

"Good old Catholic guilt, I presume?"

"There's a bit of that," Matt admits.

Dealing with those feelings and urges and his Faith has been challenging, but Father Lantom's openness and Matt's own progress on accepting himself has helped. And Foggy, always Foggy, because how could loving him be bad? 

"Oh well," Foggy says. "Boys or girls, I'm not worried for you. When you are ready, you'll find the perfect match."

"I thought I wasn't ready, with Daredevil and all," Matt says. "But I'm worried that if I wait too long, I'll miss the opportunity to at least try."

That captures Foggy's attention again. 

"Did I hear that right? You like someone? Oh, it is Karen?" Foggy's heart trips. He's anxious about that, and Matt remembers how Foggy's heart fluttered around Karen sometimes, when they first started working together. It was hard to witness, but Matt had thought it went away, mostly. Maybe not, and it's a blow. "She likes you a lot, too."

"Karen is lovely, but no. And it's not Claire either," Matt says when Foggy seems ready to add something. "I'm just not sure he feels the same way about me."

"Well if he has a lick of sense, he does!" Foggy says vehemently, switching pronouns like it's nothing. "You are gorgeous and wonderful and, yes, a bit of a dork but it's part of the charm." Heart steady all the way through. "If you really like him, I think you should go and get that guy, you hear me?" 

Interestingly, Foggy's heart trips again. He’s anxious about that, too, and that changes the portrait completely. It makes no sense that Foggy would be jealous because he likes Karen, but also unsettled about a nameless man, unless the problem is that _Matt_ likes someone. If he's interpreting things right, Foggy might have hopeless pining in his repertoire, too. 

"You make it sound easy," Matt says.

He knows it's everything but. A non-reciprocated confession could make everything awkward and uncomfortable. Foggy and Karen are all that Matt has, he can't jeopardize that.

"It is," assures Foggy. "You man up, ask him out, and see where it evolves from there. If it works, it works. If you're turned down – and that will not happen, unless you have terrible taste – then you pick up the pieces and move on with the satisfaction of having at least tried."

"Just like that, huh?" Matt says quietly.

"Exactly like that."

And frankly, does Matt have an excuse anymore? Maybe he should be the brave one, then. Lay it out. It can't be worse than the Daredevil reveal, he reasons. Foggy, if he's not interested, will let him down easy and they'll get over it.

"Stop the car," Matt asks and Foggy does just that, immediately.

"What? Why? Oh, shit, are there other drug dealers? Should I hide the car?" he's getting worked up.

"No, no, it's nothing. Just…" Matt turns in his seat, takes a deep breath and goes for it. "Would you like to have dinner at The Pearl with me, Friday night?"

"The Pearl? Oh, fancy, I've heard good things about it. Yes, sure," Foggy accepts, but he doesn't _get_ it. He's thinking that it's just a night out with a friend, like they do all the time. "But why did you ask me to stop?"

"A date, Foggy. Would you like to go as my date?" Matt's heart is beating so fast, he's afraid that it's going to leap out of his chest. Even more, the sound of blood rushing to Matt's head hushes the world outside of the car. Drowns everything that is not Foggy. 

For the second time tonight in this drive, Foggy gapes. It would be funny if it wasn't totally nerve wracking.

"What? Did you… what?"

Ladies and gentlemen: Foggy Nelson, at loss for words. Premiering in the Northern Hemisphere, in the middle of nowhere, Vermont.

"We're best friends, partners," Matt says. "You are already the most important person in my life, you know that. But those feelings-"

"Feelings!" Foggy meeps, before slapping a hand on his own mouth and making a 'go on' motion with the other.

"Yes, feelings. Lots of them. And if, by any chance, you might be interested to explore those feelings, I'm offering a date." Being brave is nerve wracking and immediately, Matt feels the need to give Foggy an out. "But if you don't, are not interested whatever the reason, then no harm no foul. I'd get it. I didn't say a thing for years, so I won't bother you."

"Years!" Foggy mumbles behind his hand, heart double thudding.

"And that was my closing argument," Matt says, when the silence stretches. 

He doesn't know where they stand right now, and every second ticking by makes Matt despair a little more. If he is interested, Foggy should react, no? When Foggy finally lowers his hand, Matt is dying of nerves.

"Matthew Michael Murdock," Foggy says calmly. "You are an idiot."

Before Matt manages to analyze if that means he's rejected or not, Foggy continues.

"I have containers, nay, boatloads of feelings for you, too!" he says with fervor. "We're talking amounts that would fill cruise ships of Queen Mary Two proportions, here, several times over! How in the world did you manage to miss that? Spidey senses my ass," Foggy adds, gesturing emphatically. 

The relief is immense and the elations left in its wake is rapidly going to Matt's head like champagne bubbles. It's impossible to stop the way he starts smiling wider and wider. 

"My senses are nothing like Spiderman's. Who is a brat, by the way," Matt says, full out grinning now.

"We'll pass over the fact that you know Spiderman and didn't tell me for the moment," Foggy says. "Now get the fuck over here and kiss me."

That's one order Matt is more than happy to follow. 

"Yes sir," he says, meeting Foggy in the middle of the car. He's making grabby hand in his direction and Matt only wants to laugh.

The kiss isn't much, just a press of lips while they are both smiling too wide for it to be sexy. Their teeth bump together, but it's the best kiss of Matt's life nonetheless. He has a hand on Foggy's neck, feeling as well hearing his pulse race, while Foggy's fingers are now grabbing his hair in a delicious way. It's like butterflies have invaded Matt's torso, swooping all over the place, and he's giddy that his feelings are returned. He is absolutely convinced they will be awesome together, like they've always been great in everything else. Too soon, Foggy pulls back.

"You have _no idea_ how much I've dreamed about this," Foggy says with feeling. "It might be a fantasy as I lay on the cabin's floor, still knocked out." 

Foggy is caressing Matt's temple with his thumb in a way that makes him want to arch into the touch like a cat.

"Don't joke about that," Matt chides, and then surges forward to lightly kiss Foggy's lips again. He can do that now, it's fantastic. "I've dreamed of us, too."

"Good. That's nice, it's more than I ever hoped. Pretty sure it didn't involve drug dealers and a trunk full of coke, though, right?" Foggy asks with a smile in his voice.

"No, not really." 

He won't admit that in some variations of his fantasies, Matt would make a move while high on adrenaline only to find Foggy wanted him, too. Those were very nice fantasies, some of his favorites, and not that different than what happened today in fact. Cool.

"Let's get this whole drug ordeal over with," Foggy says, kissing Matt's lips with a peck again, then patting down the hair he ruffled. He then gets in position to drive again, a lot faster now. "And then, buddy, I swear to god we'll take every single day left of that vacation, and the criminal elements of Vermont better stay away. I have plans."

Matt laughs. "Less fishing?"

"Less fishing. A lot more sex."

The bluntness almost makes Matt choke, but also hits him with a wave of arousal. Those are terms he can agree on, definitely. 

"Perfect," Matt agrees, blood racing. 

Vacation it is. His duty towards Hell's Kitchen will have to wait. 

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic in this fandom, so why not try a bigbang, right? Lol! 
> 
> I appropriated for this story the name of a real place (Holland Pond) in the general vicinity of where I imagined the boy's cabin would be at the Vermont/Québec border. The rest, including the exact location and descriptions, is entirely fictional. Pichenotte is real, though! And can become vicious! And so are the frogs… if you'd like to hear their call, this website is pretty cool :)
> 
> I want to thank the mods of the **marvel_bang** challenge for their professionalism and another great edition, my precious beta **matchboximpala** who did a great job to make this fic better (all remaining errors are my own!) and of course **kayqy** for the lovely art. (Again, take a second to have a look [here! ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5093216))
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for Gone Fishing by gottalovev](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5093216) by [KayQy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayQy/pseuds/KayQy)




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